


Reprieve

by Master_of_the_Rebels



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Bonding, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-17
Updated: 2012-05-17
Packaged: 2017-11-05 13:05:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Master_of_the_Rebels/pseuds/Master_of_the_Rebels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick takes issue with some of Damian's scars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reprieve

For the past several days, Damian had felt eyes on him.  And as much as he enjoyed being acknowledged, the staring was beginning to aggravate him to the point that he simply couldn’t stop twitching.  So it was only understandable that when he felt those eyes digging into his back again during the middle of a workout, he bristled and snapped.

 

“Grayson!  Would you cease and desist with the gawking already!”

 

“Wha-whoa!” Dick yelped and dropped reflexively to the ground when a dumbbell came flying at his face.  Wide-eyed, he stared in shock at Damian huffing from his place on the gym mats.  “Are you trying to break my head open?  What was that for?”  He eyed the weight, both impressed and disturbed by the number fifty on the side.  For an eleven-year-old, the weight was remarkable, but the fact that his protégé thought it would be a good idea to chuck it at him was less than comforting.

 

Damian straightened up and scowled, running a hand through his damp spikes with a frustrated motion.  “You have been gaping at me ever since I returned from Mother’s almost two weeks ago.  This extreme attention is ridiculous, Grayson, I do not need to be babysat like an incompetent toddler.”

 

Eyebrows high in surprise, Dick pushed to his feet.  “I’m not babysitting, Damian.  I know better than most that you’re independent.”

 

“Then _why_ are you staring?”

 

Dick gave a noncommittal shrug, running his tongue along the backs of his teeth.  He hadn’t realized he’d been watching the boy so much, but now that he thought about it, his eyes _had_ started drifting in Damian’s direction more often than not.

 

His lack of real response just served to further incense Damian, who turned away with a growl and started in on an angry series of katas.  Dick’s head tilted unconsciously as he took the opportunity to consider his apparent scrutiny.  To be honest, he was beyond surprised at Damian’s reappearance merely a week after the fight with The Flamingo, looking for all the world like he’d merely been on vacation instead of beaten to a pulp.  It would be a blatant lie to say he hadn’t been terrified out of his mind that he’d never see the boy again.

 

But then Damian had come back, practically good as new, and wasn’t that the crux of it?  It wasn’t logically possible for him to be in such good shape, at least not to Dick’s knowledge.  That must be when he’d started watching.  He was worried, plain and simple.  Whatever had happened to heal him couldn’t have been natural, and Dick was anxious for the other shoe to drop.

 

And he was staring again, he could tell by the fiery glare thrown his direction, and the way Damian’s motions became steadily more choppy and irritable as he shucked his shirt, heavy with sweat from the workout.  Damian gave a swirling high kick, and that’s when Dick saw it.

 

Perhaps it was the fact that marks were more prominent when a person’s body was already flushed with heat, but the light glanced off the sheen of perspiration on Damian’s back and highlighted a pale jagged stripe running the entire length of his spine.

 

In half a heartbeat, Damian was yelling obscenities against the floor from his immobile position beneath Dick’s body weight.  “Grayson, what the hell do you think you are doing?” He jerked, trying to raise his head and shoulders, but the man’s hand slid up and pressed him back to the ground by the nape of his neck.  The younger growled when he felt another hand trace down his spine and up again.  “Grayson, if you do not remove yourself from my person immediately, so help me, I will break every bone in your miserable body!” He was ignored, of course, because as much as Damian would have liked to follow through with his threat, he was completed pinned.

 

Dick disregarded the objections of his partner and continued to outline the large scar with his fingers, his frown growing deeper every second.  “What is this?” The words hissed out accusingly before he could even think to stop them, and Damian’s struggling stilled below him.  His mind was running simulations of past fights at high speed, and nothing he could recall should have left a scare this enormous, not even the fight with The Flamingo; that would have been scattered.  When no answer was forthcoming, his grip tightened unconsciously, earning him a grunt.  “ _Tell me_.”

 

It was Batman’s voice, imposing and deadly, and Damian automatically stiffened in response, proof enough that no Robin would ignore a command in that form.  Dick’s eyes narrowed at the mumbled response he received, and perhaps he didn’t completely have control of the disapproving rumbled that came out deep from within his throat.

 

“It is from my spinal transplant.”

 

Dick blinked, coming back to himself from the unexpected response.  Sitting back, he frowned, giving Damian the space to turn over beneath him, but not to stand.  “Your what?”

 

Glaring at the man stubbornly sitting on his stomach, Damian pushed uselessly at his mentor’s knees.  “My spinal transplant.  Mother had the League scientists give me a transplant after the fight with that Flamingo bastard, so I would recover faster than healing on my own.”

 

Dick knew the look on his face must have been horrified, but the boy seemed unfazed.  “Dami, that’s—”

 

“It is pointless to try to argue—”

 

“—like they’re treating you like some kind of _experiment_ —”

 

“—what’s done is done.”

 

“—to do something like that to you—”

 

“It saved my life, Grayson.”

 

Dick’s next words pulled up short and his protégé frowned up at him, not in anger, but an expression that begged him to try to understand.  He found himself gripping the boy’s hands’ unconsciously, his subconscious looking for an anchor to support him from this revelation.  He so badly wanted to argue, but something about Damian’s face wasn’t letting him, and Dick listened dimly as Damian continued speaking.

 

“Not my mortal life, no, I would not have died.  But if I had allowed myself to heal naturally, I would never have been the same.  Robin,” Damian gestured even through Dick’s hold on his hand, “all of this, would become an impossibility.  And for that, my life would have ended.”

 

Dick’s face crumpled and in one motion, he swung to the side to let Damian sit up.  There were few moments like these that reminded Dick that, while his partner may have the body of a young boy, his mind was far from childish.  He watched Damian pull himself up, eyes a mix of both sadness and admiration; sadness for the boy who never had the chance to be a boy, and admiration for the wisdom he possessed far beyond his, or even Dick’s, years.

 

Damian rolled his neck and rubbed absently at the sore spot on his chest where he’d hit the floor when Dick caught him off guard.  Glancing over his shoulder, he rolled his eyes at the torn expression on his mentor’s face.  Dick was trapped in his thoughts, something made obvious by the glazed over blue eyes and slowly deepening furrow of his brow.  With a suffering sigh, Damian reached out and grabbed a large hand, relishing the jump of surprise it caused.

 

Dick’s lips parted in a shaky exhale when Damian maneuvered them until Dick could press his hand flat to the boy’s back.  He made an interested noise in the back of his throat and Damian gave another sigh.

 

“You may examine until you have come to terms with the facts and resolved any of the asinine notions that are no doubt plaguing your brain.”  And then he proceeded to cross his legs and shut his eyes, dropping almost immediately into a meditative trance.

 

Dick remained still for a good few minutes, simply staring at the shimmering scar as he tried to process the significance of the permission he’d just been given.  Finally, with the barest jolt, he started trailing along the markings, fingers tracing over the minute bump of the scar.  His eyes flicked back up to see if Damian was uncomfortable with his proximity, but the boy had his mouth slack, chest rising and falling in an easy cadence with his slow breathing.

 

This, more than anything, allowed Dick to finally let the last of the tension in his body drain away, settling into the unexpected peace it brought him to be granted such free reign to soothe his curiosity.  He edged closer, hesitating for only a second before placing both hands on smooth olive skin.  Damian didn’t respond, deep in his subconscious, and Dick took the surreal moment to savor his young partner’s very much living presence.  The boy would probably never understand how much his life meant to Dick. That was okay though, as long as he simply stayed alive. 

 

Dick let himself explore the faint ridges, the silvery difference in skin tone, and at a certain point, his study turned to other marks and old lesions, marveling at the force of will to withstand the pain some had certainly caused, and wondering if he had been that strong at this age.

 

Despite pulling out of his mediation briefly, Damian said nothing of how Dick was no longer focusing purely on his spine.  And so in that manner, the partners sat quietly in peace, simply grateful for the life of the other.


End file.
